


These Hours Belong To Us

by lindenwaverly



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Smut, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 11:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindenwaverly/pseuds/lindenwaverly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were three of them, sitting on the cold plastic chairs in A&E at three a:m in the morning.  The lights made every single one of them look dead and cold, pale and frumpy.<br/>One of them had got a call at two oh five because his best friend had got to two and swallowed two packets of pills, or maybe three, just too many pills, and then changed her mind.<br/>One of them had driven himself here while high on more things than he should have been and he was convinced he was dying and now he was sitting in this little chair having decided he probably wasn’t dying and he was just slowly switching between freaking out and zoning out.<br/>One of them had gotten into something he shouldn’t have and then his brother had got involved in order to save him, and now his brother was the one who’d paid the price and he had to sit here and wait to know if he would survive the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Hours Belong To Us

There were three of them, sitting on the cold plastic chairs in A&E at three a:m in the morning. The lights made every single one of them look dead and cold, pale and frumpy.  
One of them had got a call at two oh five because his best friend had got to two and swallowed two packets of pills, or maybe three, just too many pills, and then changed her mind.  
One of them had driven himself here while high on more things than he should have been and he was convinced he was dying and now he was sitting in this little chair having decided he probably wasn’t dying and he was just slowly switching between freaking out and zoning out.  
One of them had gotten into something he shouldn’t have and then his brother had got involved in order to save him, and now his brother was the one who’d paid the price and he had to sit here and wait to know if he would survive the night.  
 **It was three a:m**

When Sean was a child, he’d had a big book of Greek mythology, an illustrated one. Each Greek God had a whole-page illustration of them, but the pages he’d rested on the most had been the portraits of Apollo and Aries. Apollo had these wide blue eyes that seemed endlessly enthusiastic, so wide they were almost ridiculous, and a dirty grin that he guessed had come from a private memory of the illustrator. His face was smooth, intelligent, a little bored. Aries had small, sleepy, threatening eyes and bright blonde hair. His scowl was feral, aggressive and the purest expression of rage Sean had ever seen.  
He remembered this because the guys sitting with him in A&E in the early morning looked exactly like them. Apollo had dark hair slicked back, not blonde like in the picture, and his face was pale and wan, and Aries was less ridiculously ripped, but apart from that they were the spitting images.  
That might be all in his head, of course. Everything was sliding in and out of reality and he thought he’d been here for maybe five minutes but experience had taught him that could have been five seconds or five hours. That was the thing that both terrified him and made him love these kinds of moments, the utter removal from the timeline. He wasn’t in the safe world of second-second-second-tick-tick-tick, the world of cause and effect. He’d broken the laws of logic and this was a freedom and a curse because now he didn’t have to stick with logic but logic didn’t have to stick with him, could cause the floor to fall away from him now.  
One time when he was this high he’d seen demons and sometimes he still worried that they hadn’t been a hallucination, he’d just got so far away from the real world that the veil had been ripped away and he’d been able to see what was there all along.  
This was the year he was going to stop fucking up, he decided. He was going to pass Classics – it was hard work but it might keep him off the drugs – he was going to go back home to Ireland, he was going to start taking his medication again (the medication he was meant to take), he would sit in the cabin in the woods and detox and read Ovid and Virgil and all the things that used to make him happy before he stopped being the smart one and started being the fuck up.  
It took him a few seconds to realise that his lips were moving and he’d said the last part about going back to Ireland out loud. Apollo was looking at him with a mixture of interest and fear. Aries just looked annoyed.  
Sean caught both their eyes and tried to smile but what came out was probably a grimace because Aries rolled his eyes and Apollo just looked down in embarrassment and went back to his book. 

**It was five past three**  
  
“Are you ok?” Hank had wanted to ask, and then had shaken his head at how stupid he was because the boy was sitting in A &E at three in the morning, of course he wasn’t ok. He tried to focus on his book but it was the stories of Jorge Luis Borges, and he only had it because his physics professor had told him that it would help expand their mind and the last thing he needed while Raven was dying a few rooms away was incomprehensible post-modern logic. He wondered if he was sad enough to admit to himself that what he really wanted to do was a maths problem, a long, complex one where he could work through every level logically and by the time he reached the answer the sun would be up and so would Raven.  
He wished he had his iPod with him because at the moment all he could hear was Raven’s voice from the other end of the phone – not strong and loud and a little dirty like it should have been. It was ragged and small. It was like the echo of Raven.  
 _Hank, I’ve done something stupid. Please don’t hate me._  
 _Raven, hang up and call an ambulance._  
 _No. Stay on the phone._  
 _I’m coming to get you ._  
And he’d called the ambulance and arrived just in time to see her being lifted in the back with an oxygen mask over her face and her eyes were very dark and very dead. He’d stood there for a long time after the ambulance had pulled away, staring at the spot where it had been, letting himself get soaked to the skin.  
(He wished he could have called a friend to help him through but Raven was his only friend, and even though she had other friends he really didn’t want to call them).  
Thinking that, he suddenly thought that maybe that was how the other boy felt. That even if the answer to “are you ok?” was obvious, he still needed to say “no” and tell someone why. And even if he didn’t, even if he just said “I’m fine,” it would still be some sort of proof that a random stranger cared about him. Hank had been waiting for that kind of proof his whole life. Even if he couldn’t string a conversation together at the best of times, this boy couldn’t even string a sentence together, and he really needed help. Compassion won out over his shyness.  
“Hey,” he said in a stage whisper. Alex Summer (who was sitting opposite him and who Hank was absolutely not going to think about because that would be totally inappropriate) had looked positively murderous when the ginger boy had spat out a garbled sentence about Ireland and Ovid, and he didn’t want to disturb him again. The ginger boy raised his head as if he was dragging it through heavy mud, and turned to look at Hank. “Hey, are you ok?”  
The ginger one swallowed and nodded, then shook his head.  
“What’s wrong?” he said, and the ginger boy wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. Hank noticed how skinny he was. He reminded him of a description he’d read once, “exotic and precariously thin, with nervous hands and a shock of bright red hair.”  
“Dying,” said the boy.  
Hank nearly chocked. “You have to call a doctor,” he said.  
“Not anymore.”  
Hank raised an eyebrow. The ginger boy shook his head and moved his lips silently, trying out various word combinations to see if one made sense.  
“I thought I was dying but not.”  
Hank nodded. “Ok.” He probably was dying. He was the highest person Hank had ever seen in his entire life. Then again, Hank didn’t have much of a social life, so that wasn’t exactly an achievement.  
“What did you take?” growled someone behind him, and Hank really, really hoped that the shock he’d gotten had stayed hidden and that he hadn’t actually jumped.  
“Acid,” murmured the redhead.  
“How much?” said Alex Summers. His voice was monotone and his face was utterly flat. Hank was equally glad and disappointed that those intense eyes weren't looking at him.  
The boy held up two trembling fingers.  
“Two tabs?” The boy nodded. “Anything else?”  
“MD. Half.”  
“Half a gram?” He shook his head. “Half a pill?” He nodded. “Ok.” He looked at Hank, and his blood ran cold and then hot and then that place in between where you get touched by something so hot that it feels like ice cold needles. “He probably won’t die.”  
Hank nodded and tried to smile. There was a long pause as it slowly began to dawn on him that he’d been smiling and staring for a few seconds too long.  
“Sean,” said the redhead, with impeccable timing. Hank wondered if he was more aware of his surroundings than he let on.  
“Is that your name?” said Hank.  
“No, he’s wondering if it’s yours,” said Alex with a roll of his eyes (and however much of an idiot Hank looked right then he still couldn’t get over the fantastic bubbling feeling in his stomach because Alex Summers was talking to him).  
“How come you’re here, then?” he asked, desperate to keep the conversation going. Alex just glowered more (which Hank wouldn’t have previously thought possible).  
“Family business.”  
He nodded. If anyone had asked him why he was here, he wouldn’t have wanted to answer either.

**It was twenty-five past three**  
  
Alex didn’t really want to admit it, but he was praying.  
Scott would probably be fine, they told him. He’d just need a blood transfusion, a couple of stitches, a short stay while they looked after him. He was really, really glad they’d bought the bar fight story. He’d still twisted it so that he was the bad guy, the one who’d started the trouble so that Scott ended up defending him, because the last thing Scott would need if (when, when, when) he woke up was a whole bunch of doctors and nurses being condescending towards him for getting in trouble. So instead Alex had dealt with the raised eyebrows and looks behind his back and whispers of “Is that Alex Summers?” because he deserved so, so much worse.  
All he had now was his thoughts, and Bozo and Druggie Sean whispering to each other. Alex had no idea how they were managing to keep up a conversation. Bozo, with his big, ugly specs, looked like the most socially awkward person he had ever seen, and Sean seemed to have forgotten that words only had meaning if you put them in the right order. Somehow they managed to keep up their whispered dialogue. Whenever he tuned into their conversation, neither of them seemed to be making much sense to each other. One time he’d listened in and found Sean telling Bozo some story about some bitch called Leda and a swan which sounded seriously fucked up and another time he’d heard Bozo trying to explain quantum physics while Druggie sort of nodded and made cryptic comments about the afterlife.  
Alex was kind of glad for them, in a way. Listening to them helped him tune out from his own thoughts (even if he didn’t deserve to have that distraction).  
This time Sean was telling Bozo about this girl he knew who he sounded like he had a huge crush on – her name was Angel, as far as he could tell, and she had tattoos like dragonfly wings on her back and when you looked at them it was like she was sheathed in black lace and she sparkled like sunlight.  
“If she’s called Angel, why doesn’t she have Angel wings tattooed on her back?” he asked. Bozo did that weird flinching thing he’d done last time he spoke. Alex wasn’t sure whether Bozo was just a naturally nervous person or whether once again his reputation had preceded him.  
Sean shrugged. “She is beautiful and ethereal but she’s not very holy so the dragonfly wings suit her plus she wears a lot of green so I don’t know maybe that’s why she decided…” He trailed off, and Alex smiled to himself. Sean was kind of cute. He had this lost, petulant look about him, and a nice mouth. Actually, now that Alex looked at it, it was a really, really nice mouth. Sort of crushed and already a little swollen, and the lips trembling every time he took a breath. Bozo was kind of good looking, too – big blue eyes, ironic lips, dark hair. (He tried to stop himself from sizing them up and imagining how they’d do in prison because doing that to people was a really, really bad habit, both from a not-being-creepy point of view and a not-having-horrible-screaming-flashbacks point of view).  
Alex smiled. “Gay, man,” he said in what he hoped was a not-too aggressive tone of voice.  
“What?”  
“The way you talk about her. Does she know about your little crush on her?” That sounded mean, he supposed. He wished they could know that this was really unusually nice for him.  
Sean shook his head. “It’s not really a crush.”  
“It sounds a lot, lot, lot like a crush.”  
Sean shook his head. “I can appreciate beauty but, you know, it doesn’t have to be in a sexual way, if you get me? I mean, you two are Apollo and Aries and utterly beautiful but it’s not like that though actually if you two were to get it on could I watch please…” Once again his voice slowly disappeared. Bozo was blushing an incredibly deep red and staring pointedly at the floor.  
“What’s he talking about?” asked Alex.  
“Apollo was the Greek god of…”  
“No, no, I know that. I mean the rest of it.” Bozo made a sort of horrified fish face and looked like he was about to trip up over his tongue. “I mean why are we Apollo and Aries?”  
“Oh,” said Bozo. “I honestly have no idea.”  
Alex nodded, and almost managed a smile. “I’m Alex.”  
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Hank.”

**It was half three**  
  
Apollo/Hank was leant in close, straining to hear Sean’s voice as it slowly trailed off at the end of his long sentences on myths and Angel and drugs and physics. Sean could feel his hot breath against his face and his eyes were very big and very blue. He remembered he’d said that he could appreciate beauty in a purely aesthetic way, but he didn’t have to. There was something cute and strangely uplifting about Hank’s face and eventually Sean recognised that even though he looked worried and tired he had hope written all over him.  
He was still worried and tired though, and so was Alex, and Sean felt like he could feel them getting closer and closer to a breakdown. Hank was tapping his feet, drumming his hands on his thighs, anything to keep himself moving. Alex seemed to be becoming stiller – muscles clenched, teeth gritted, eyes fixed firmly ahead of him.  
In the end it was Hank who broke.  
Sean was in the middle of one of his long, rambling sentences when suddenly Hank punched himself on the head.  
“Fuck,” he said, and Sean could hear the crack in his voice. “Fuck. Fuck.”  
He went to punch himself again but Alex was there, so fast Sean didn’t see him move, gripping Hank’s wrists and pulling his hand down. Hank just sat there and shivered, thick shivers that shook his whole body so violently Sean was worried he was having some kind of attack. He put his arms around him, and after a moment Alex awkwardly sat down on the other side of Hank and put a stiff arm around his shoulders.  
“I can’t even cry,” he said at last. His voice sounded very strange and very lost. “I heard her as she took the pills and I read the note she left behind and I watched as they lifted her into the ambulance and I couldn’t even cry. It hurt, it hurt horribly, and I can scream and freak out and do stupid, stupid things but I can’t even cry.”  
“That’s ok,” murmured Sean into the warmth of his shoulder. “You don’t have to deal with something the way everyone expects you to. It’s ok.”  
“I cried like a baby when my mom attempted suicide,” Hank continued. “When I found her on the floor, all pale, with the shattered glass just tumbled out of her hands, I just broke down, and I cried down the phone to the ambulance and I cried during the journey and even after she was home and recovering in her room I’d be doing something completely different like chopping vegetables or going to school and then I’d just remember how I found her and I’d completely break down. And this is my best friend who was a million times nicer to me and more accepting and better for my mental health than my mom ever, ever was and I can’t even cry.”  
Then suddenly, unexpectedly, Hank was yanked out of Sean’s arms as Alex pulled him into a tender embrace. Sean watched as Hank shuddered against Alex’s body as if electrocuted. Alex held him, securely but gently, running his fingers again and again through his hair. He was whispering something in Hank’s ear which Sean couldn’t hear and Hank wasn’t listening to.  
Eventually Hank lay still and floppy in Alex’s arms.

**It was ten to four**  
  
Alex held Hank close and listened to the sound of him breathing in his ear.  
The two of them were curled up close together. Their arms were around each other, and Hank’s face was buried in Alex’s neck. His lips were soft and sweet. Their chests were pressed against each other so that Hank was nearly pulled on top of Alex. It was sort of uncomfortable and it was closer than he’d ever let anyone else get, but Alex didn’t mind somehow. Eventually Hank pulled away and Alex shivered slightly at the sudden change in temperature.  
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I mean… you’re in here because of family, and I’m just moaning about my friend-“  
“Hey,” said Alex. “It’s ok. You feel like Raven’s the only person in the world who cares for you, right?” Hank nodded and brushed his cheek. “Scott – it’s like that for me.”  
Alex reached out and wiped the last traces of tears from Hanks face. Hank turned to look at him, his eyes startled and beautiful, and Alex just smiled.  
It was five to four  
Hank tried not to read too much into the way Alex had held him, the way he’d brushed his face, the way he’d smiled, because he would go mad.  
This was Alex Summers, sitting right there like an actual normal human being and not like Hank had thought about him every day since the start of college. He remembered it pretty well. He’d been sitting with Raven and some guy called Darwin in the canteen – Raven had adopted him pretty early on, something he was thankful for – when suddenly everyone in the canteen had started whispering to each other and pointing at whoever had just come in the door.  
The boy they were pointing at was beautiful. Hank thought that he moved like a predator, and then he thought that he moved like a king. He was regal and wild and golden. He looked strong, and a little bit dangerous. “That’s Alex Summers,” Darwin had whispered. “Apparently he was in prison.” The boy had turned his eyes and caught sight of Hank’s table staring at him. He’d scowled. And Hank had been lost.  
After that Hank had behaved in ways that probably constituted stalking in several states. He’d found out where Alex’s rooms were, and had taken a few long-cuts to places in order to walk past them. He’d found out everything he could about Alex – what classes he was taking (pottery, creative writing, Spanish), what clubs he did (the school boxing team), what friends he had in college (none). He’d even attempted to go to the gym a few times to see him, but the sight of Alex covered in a fine sheen of sweat, grunting and breathing heavily with all his muscles tensed still didn’t quite make up for the embarrassment.  
And now he was here, and he’d just voluntarily held Hank in his arms and touched his face. The three a:m light and his buzzing head and Sean’s trippy voice made it even more surreal until the touch had a dream like quality. He was sure it had happened but couldn’t for the life of him remember what it felt like.  
“Alex? Alex Summers?” A doctor had appeared without Hank noticing. He was small and British, with wavy coppery hair and a handsome, kind face. “I’m Doctor Xavier. Could I speak to you for a moment?”  
Every muscle in Alex’s body seemed to stiffen. Hank thought for a second he might be about to punch the doctor, but then he saw Alex’s expression. His face was a mask of slack-jawed dread, and it was so hopeless and awful and guilty that it made something in his chest twist.  
The doctor and Alex moved away, and Hank kept his eyes fixed on Alex’s face. It had changed to something utterly blank. It reminded him of the way the sea drew back before a big wave.  
Then Alex collapsed on the ground and covered his face with his hands.  
Hank rushed over. Alex was a floppy mess of limbs on the ground and it took him a moment to realise that he wasn’t crying, he was just taking huge, gasping breaths. All the tension he’d been building up had left him.  
“He’s going to be ok,” he murmured. “He’s going to be ok.”  
“Who?”  
“Scott. He’ll be fine. He’s going to be ok.”

**It was five past four**  
  
Sean watched. Alex was lying on his back on a row of plastic seats, gasping and grinning at the ceiling. Occasionally he raised his hand in a fist and exhaustedly punched the air.  
Hank sat next to him. His elbows were on his knees and he was running his hands through his hair repeatedly and tapping his huge feet.  
“Are you going to go home?” Hank said at last.  
“What?” said Alex, his face still lit up.  
“You two could go home. You know your brother’s fine and you could probably use the sleep. And Sean, you… why are you still here?”  
“Looking out for you,” said Sean simply.  
Alex sat up. Sean saw him almost put an arm around Hank, and then change his mind. “Sean’s right. I mean, I don’t even know you, but we’re strangers here at 3 a:m and… I kind of held you as you cried, man. I’m committed.”  
Hank took off his glasses and rubbed them on his sleeve. “You don’t have to stay, you know.”  
“I do,” Alex said. Sean nodded in agreement. They lapsed into silence again. Hank looked a little less pale.  
“Hey,” said Alex. “Sean told us about Angel. It’s your turn to tell us about whatever girl you’re into.”  
Hank made his panicked fish face and turned crimson.  
“Unless it’s a guy,” he teased. Hank swallowed and tugged at his collar. Alex covered his mouth and sat upright. “Oh shit. It is isn’t it?” Hank tried to protest, but Alex laid a hand on his shoulder and he shut up. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I… Tell us about him.” He smiled and tried to sound bright.  
Hank shook his head. “It’s a bit embarrassing.”  
“Hey, you don’t have to tell us his name. When did you meet him?”  
Hank’s face was crumpling with embarrassment. “I…um…I’ve only ever spoken to him once.”  
Alex just laughed. “Aaaand how long have you liked him?”  
“…A year.”  
Alex was in hysterics. “And when did you talk to him?”  
“Today.” Hank’s voice was a strangled whisper, and Sean suddenly realised who he must be talking about.  
“What about?”  
“…Stuff.”  
“Deep stuff?”  
“Some of it.”  
“Lived up to expectations?”  
“He’s… slightly chattier than I thought he would be.”  
Alex leant forward, grinning like a teenage girl. “What’s he like? Blonde? Dark haired? Handsome?”  
“Definitely handsome.”  
“He as clever as you?”  
“… I don’t know.”  
“Hey, it’s alright to say he isn’t.”  
“It sounds vain.”  
“It doesn’t.”  
“Just… not a lot of people are cleverer than me.” Alex’s eyebrows shot up when Hank said this, and he looked apologetic. “I sort of did my Bachelor’s when I was a teenager. I’m halfway through my Masters.”  
Alex made a strangled impressed sound. “So you’re like a child genius?”  
“Um, maybe, possibly.” Hank fidgeted with his jacket. “What about you? I mean…”  
Alex shook his head. “I’ve… never really found anyone I trusted.” He looked at Hank, and Hank looked back at him. Sean could see the pleading in Alex’s eyes. “I was in prison. I guess you know that. Everyone knows that. It didn’t exactly give me the best view of humanity.”  
Hank reached out and Sean saw his hand waver in the air for a minute before he rested it on Alex’s head, running his fingers though his hair. He pulled Alex into an embrace, as loving and tender as the one Alex had given him. Alex relaxed into it for a few seconds, but suddenly he stiffened and pushed away.  
“Sorry,” he said, rubbing his head in his hands. Hank was making a valiant effort not to look hurt.  
“It’s ok,” he said soothingly. “I’m sorry.”  
“It’s my bad-“  
“I should have realised-“  
“It’s fine,” said Alex. “Let’s go back to talking about wonderboy.”

**It was quarter past four**  
  
Hank wanted to die.  
On top of his worry about Raven (Why had no one come out to see him yet? Did they know he was here? Would he even find out if she was dead?), now there was Alex Summers, being blonde and flirty and beautiful and sending him little dirty grins as he quizzed him about his crush and all Hank could do was try not to be too much of a loser.  
He’d already managed to give away that his crush was blonde, was a bit of a bad boy and went to the same college as him. He might as well just stand up and kiss him already.  
“Is he manly?”  
“I think he think he is.”  
“Is he straight?”  
“…Probably.”  
“Have you asked?”  
“No.” And I’m not going to. I’m just going to sit here and then I’m going to go home and set myself on fire.  
“You know, you should chat to him.”  
Hank laughed. “I’m a bit of an awkward nerd. I really, really don’t think I’d stand a chance.”  
“I think he’d be all over you.”  
Hank slightly chocked.  
“What?”  
“You’ve got adorable eyes and you could do something with your hair and you’re probably the first person I’ve ever seen with cute eyebrows. You could, you know, rock that whole tall, dark and mysterious thing.”  
Hank was sort of maybe hyperventilating.  
“You should go to the gym a bit more,” said Alex, smiling. “Build up some muscles.”  
“I did… I did try going once.”  
“And?”  
“….It was a bit embaressing.”  
Alex laughed, and Hank revelled in the warm, golden sound.  
“Are you gay, Alex?” asked Sean from the corner, and Hank tried to send him a telepathic message of thanks.  
Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Sort of. Sometimes.”  
That made no sense to Hank but Sean just nodded wisely, so Hank did too.  
“Which one of us is more attractive, then?” said Alex, switching the focus back onto Hank. He laughed and tried to wave the question away.  
“Go on. Blonde or redhead? Manly or squirty?”  
“Oi,” said Sean after a five second pause, and Hank burst into nervous laughter.  
“All right, all right. I’ll leave you alone,” said Alex. “But I’m going to find out the guy’s name by the end of the evening.”  
“It’s morning.”  
“I’m going to find out the guy’s name by six o clock. Why don’t you just tell him?”  
“What, that I’ve been stalking him for a year and that I want to have his gaybabies?”  
“Nooo. And hey, even if you do tell him that, he might find it cute.”  
“Would you find something like that cute?”  
“Maybe. From the right kind of guy.”  
“Excuse me.”  
Hank was saved from anymore embarrassment by the appearance of a doctor at his elbow. The man was tall and gaunt. He guessed he was handsome in a slightly werewolfish way.  
“I’m Doctor Lensherr,” he said in a voice so drained of emotion that it sounded metallic. “Could you come with me for a second?”  
Doctor Lensherr led him down a long, white corridor. His footsteps clicking and the occasional panicked beep of a heart monitor machine were the only sound. Every window he looked through seemed to have someone very, very old on the other side. Suddenly he wished he’d asked Sean or Alex to come with him.  
Finally, Lensherr lead him off into a little room, and his heart stopped for a second because there was Raven and she was alive and awake and looking ok.  
“Hank.” She held out a trembling hand. He rushed to her side, kissing the back of her hand.  
“Are you ok?”  
“I’m fine. I’m going to be fine.”  
“You’re not going to die?”  
“No.” The word was little more than an exhalation, and Hank suddenly remembered that this wasn’t what she had wanted.  
“I’m sorry,” he said, and stared at the ground.  
“It’s fine. I realised it was a mistake as soon as I took the pills.” She squeezed his hand. “Getting that upset over breaking up with Azreal… it wasn’t worth it. I mean, I’ve got Charles, and I’ve got you. You’re both here tonight.” Hank smiled up and tried really, really hard not to cry. “Hey, it’s ok.”  
“You shouldn’t be saying that to me.”  
“Yes I should. You’ve already looked after me tonight.” She paused. “I’m sorry for being so selfish.”  
“It’s not selfish.”  
She swallowed, and Hank reached out and brushed her forehead. “Hey, sleepy one. You’re going to be alright…” He mumbled long strings of soothing words to her until eventually she closed her eyes and settled down in her pillow.  
“Hank,” she murmured. “What have you been doing outside all this time?”  
He kissed her forehead and dropped her hand. “I met some pretty nice people outside. I’ll tell you about them in the morning, ok?”  
She nodded exhaustedly, and he dropped her hand. As he was leaving he bumped into Doctor Xavier again. The little man looked tired and weepy, and he barely nodded at Hank as he brushed past.  
Hank walked halfway down the corridor, and then he ran, and then he was skipping and laughing as the nurses looked at him and shook their heads and Alex and Sean stood up as he ran into the waiting room, fists in the air like an Olympic champion, and hugged him tight.  
“She’s going to be ok,” said Hank, spinning round and round in Alex’s embrace. “She’s going to be ok.”

**It was twenty-five past four**  
  
It was Sean that suggested victory coffee. Alex agreed that it was a good idea. He and Hank were too jubilant to sleep, and when he’d suggested that Sean might need to go to bed he’d just shrugged and told him that sleep was something he didn't do in the normal time frame.  
The hospital was next to a motorway, and the three of them ran across, laughing at the freedom of being able to run about the empty roads and feel like the last person on earth. Alex did a cartwheel and nearly fell, and Hank caught him by the hand and this time Alex didn’t fuck it up and jerk away. On the other side was a tiny all night diner and the three of them huddled together in a both by the window, Sean on one side and Hank and Alex on the other, and it was only when the waitress came to ask them what they wanted and Hank pulled away that Alex realised they’d been holding hands all that time.  
They chatted about really dumb shit. Alex thought the coffee was too hot and too weak and Hank said that was how he liked it and Alex had really dumb thoughts like that’s because you’re hot and weak. Hank told him that he wanted to be Richard Feynmann – “apart from the going to strip clubs” – and Alex told him that he’d always wanted to be James Dean and Sean told them he’d always wanted to be Hermes “because he got to go, like, everywhere, and he was the really irritating god who annoyed everyone else and was just like “fuck you” to Apollo.”  
“Hey,” said Hank. “How come you called us two Apollo and Aries earlier?”  
“When I was a kid I had an illustrated guide to Greek gods. You two look like the illustrations for Apollo and Aries. You’re Apollo. Alex is Aries.”  
“What were they the God’s of?” asked Alex, interested.  
“Apollo was the god of the sun,” said Hank. Sean shook his head.  
“Nah, originally it was Helios who was the god of the sun. They just combined the two later. Apollo was the god of prophecy and poetry and art. And Aries was the god of war.”  
Alex guessed it did kind of fit.  
“Nahh,” said Hank, looking at him from under those ridiculously long eyelashes. “You… you’re quite nice.”  
Alex laughed. “Dude, I was in prison. I’m pretty aggressive.”  
Hank blushed and looked down at his coffee. “Sorry.”  
“It’s fine.”  
“Why were you in prison?” said Sean, because he had no tact whatsoever.  
“Assault,” said Alex, as neutrally as he could manage. He looked at Sean very steadily and tried not to look out of the corner of his eye.  
“Why?” said Hank very softly. He seemed to be a lot closer now.  
Alex bit his lip. “I… I got involved in some bad shit. They came after my younger brother, Gabe, after I tried to get out. And then I cut them quite badly.” He still wouldn’t look at Hank.  
“It was for your family,” said Hank simply, and Alex got that the important bit wasn’t the words he had said but the way he said it, the understanding and care in his voice. Hank was closer again, just close enough for Hank to feel his breath on his cheek. He turned and his vision was full of Hank’s eyes, ridiculously close and so beautiful and kind that it made Alex’s stomach clench and how could he have ever thought this guy was a Bozo?  
“You know,” said Sean, chewing at a bear claw. “I was serious earlier. If you two get off, I want to watch.”  
Hank blushed and stared down into his coffee and Alex shot Sean a death glare.  
“He’s got that jerk guy he’s stalking,” said Alex.  
“Why do you think he’s a jerk?” said Hank, looking confused.  
Alex shrugged. “You said he’s a bad boy. I’ve been described as that by enough people to know it’s just a way of saying someone’s a jerk but the describer hasn’t realised it yet.”  
Hank’s face was soft and startled. He shook his head. “He’s not a jerk,” he said gently. “Maybe he thinks he is, but after speaking to him I know he’s not a jerk.”  
“But you’ve only spoken to him once.”  
“We spoke about deep stuff. He… helped me. I wish… I wish he didn’t think he was a jerk.” Hank was staring at him again. His eyes were naked and honest and beautiful and suddenly Alex felt his face get hotter as he finally got it.  
Sean ate two sugar lumps and smiled wisely. “Now you see.”

**It was twenty to five**  
  
Alex had Hank pushed up against the back wall of the diner, hips rolling up into his, and before Hank could say “I thought you wanted to go for a walk” he had kissed him and Hanks brain utterly cut out.  
His lips were hot and soft and insistent, pressing against Hank’s mouth until he finally got his brain back in gear and kissed back. Alex grabbed his hips and ran a thumb up under his t-shirt over his hip bones, moaning into his mouth and grinding against him. Hank tore off Alex’s jacket and pushed his hands up the back of his t-shirt, feeling his smooth skin as Alex’s back moved against him. Then Alex’s lips were on his neck, his collar bone, and his mouth was warm and wet and oh so hot and Hank had to bite back a moan because he wasn’t going to believe this was real, not yet.  
Then Alex pressed his hips into his and gave him a series of long, biting kisses so intense that they left him dizzy and drunk and he lost all self-control and he was gasping Alex’s name into his mouth. Alex just put his hand in Hank’s hair and pulled his head to the side like he didn’t give a fuck about him and bit his neck and yes this was how it was meant to be, dirty and rough and desperate.  
Alex stepped away, pulling his shirt off, and grinned as Hank totally didn’t gasp at the sight of his muscles. Then he was up against him again and Hank moaned and tried to kiss him. Alex just pushed him back against the wall and smirked, before leaning forward and biting at his neck again as he undid the buttons on Hank’s shirt. Eyes squeezed tight, he felt him licking a line down his torso and sinking to his knees in front of him.  
“Alex…”  
“Shh…” And then Alex was almost tearing at his fly, pawing at him through his clothes until he’d got him out. Alex’s mouth was hot and wet and tight and oh. Hank rolled his hips and stared at the sky, gasps and pants and half-formed pleas dripping from his lips. Alex chuckled dirtily and it felt like white heat up his spine.  
Alex pulled his lips away with a soft, wet sound.  
“Hank, look at me.”  
Hank looked down, and Alex started again. His hair was messy, his sleepy little eyes were closed and the expression on his face was pure bliss and concentration. He looked messy and wild and undone.  
Then Alex did something with his tongue and all Hank could do was wind his fingers through Alex’s hair and thrust desperately into his mouth as this liquid, soft heat pooled in his stomach and burnt through his veins. Alex was raking his fingernails along his hips as he sucked and licked, running them in the shadowy hollow along his hipbones. Hank hunched over, breath ragged and uneven, his muscles tensing. And then he was coming in Alex’s mouth. For a few seconds his vision blacked out and he shuddered. He collapsed at the foot of the wall, still shuddering.  
Alex wiped his mouth and kissed him, deep and soft.  
“Dammit,” he murmured. “We didn’t let Sean watch.”  
It was ten past five  
The sun was coming up. Sean finished off his third coffee as Alex and Hank wandered back in, smiling at each other. They weren’t holding hands, weren’t even close enough to brush together accidently as they walked, but there was a look in Alex’s eyes and a twist on Hank’s mouth that suggested they wanted to be.  
Apollo and Aries. An unlikely couple. They were going to be ok.

**  
  
**In room 205, Raven woke briefly and thought distantly of Hank before drifting back to sleep.  
In room 207, Scott shifted in his bed, swallowing hard and trying to go back to sleep despite his thirst.  
In the hallway between the rooms, Dr Lensherr gently lifted Dr Xavier’s head out of his hands and held him close.  
In the wide boot of Hank’s car, Sean curled up in a ball under piles of blankets and tried to get to sleep.  
Sitting on the bonnet, watching the sun turn the sky pink and the first few cars shoot across the moterway, Hank put a long, skinny arm around Alex and kissed him on the cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> The description Hank thinks of when he looks at Sean comes from The Secret History by Donna Tartt (which is creepy and amazing and brilliant and you should read) and describes Francis Abernathy. It actually reads "The third boy was the most exotic of the set. Angular and elegant, he was precariously thin, with nervous hands and a shrewd albino face and a short, fiery mop of the reddest hair I had ever seen." I can't help but think of Sean when I read that.


End file.
